flood

P A BrownLeave a comment 
the river breaks bank
spewing torrents 
with such violence it seems to hold
the anger of a thousand generations
each one uniquely harmed 
under the weight of expectation 
imposed by old men in gilded cloth
as though every beat of power stolen
was poured downstream
and mutated into...this...
the deluge picks up pace
debris hurtles force of rage
boiling and frothing 
"stay back!" it seems to growl
and I wonder how long 
could a person last
if they fell in?
Imagine if every act of God
was a baptism
past washed clean
so we could begin again
this time without the old men
and the heavy burden of should;
pay more attention, the rallying cry
as the flood devours 
everything in its wake.

Pauline Brown 2025






short days

P A BrownLeave a comment 
Woodland across the way
great strapping trees 
broccoli haired in full dress
sport a collection of jaggy branches
flashing their knickers
and all of their skeleton wares
loiterers leave on the next gust
waft to the forest floor or nearby gutters
Jackdaws rest, a great army
chokes the air morning and night
they roost somewhere close
and for half a year
fill the sky with rambunctious chatter
I'm fond of the stragglers
for some reason they bring out the 
mother in me
we all love an underdog
I can see why Halloween is at this time of year
kindly foliage and songbirds
replaced by the neighbourhood biker gang 
safety in numbers I suppose
We shouldn't be so quick to judge
it's just nature taking its course
that deep soulful slowdown
collective down tools
at the end of a long year
we could all do with taking a leaf
out of that book.

Pauline Brown 2025


forty shades of green

P A BrownLeave a comment 
Sun 
beating heart of milky way
brings solace
those used to drizzle and grey
muted colour palette
depressing in a way
November in Cork
weeks of sad tearful clouds
on the weather report
remind us it's here to stay
air heavy and sodden 
no wind to stir up 
a bit of breathing space
I used to hate this time of year
the dreich, bone tired darkness
none of the sparkly cold 
of a textbook winter
with red mittens rosy cheeks
and snowball fights
happy shrieks 
stamping wellies on the doorstep
and frosty noses dripping
no, none of that for us
with our god forsaken rain
I look around and through the gloom
can still see forty shades of green
and wonder how our little patchwork place
would look with some other clime
I'd rather not find out.

Pauline Brown 2025

poached

P A BrownLeave a comment 
childhood trauma
boiling an egg with no shell
temperature rising slowly
shapes precious underbelly
the parts that love let flourish
instead tumours form
future faking oddities
storms roll through in ever confusing eddies
whilst horror stories disguised as fairy tales
prepare us for the worst
forcing a mind without the words
to survive and with luck
thrive
even when drowning
broken eggs go in the bin don't they?
How many of us are bumping about
fragile parts spilling all over
hoping someone else can patch us up?
I carry my yolk in my apron pocket
always braced for impact
and yet somehow still I stay soft.

Pauline Brown 2025

unqualified

P A BrownLeave a comment 
third year
it went a bit wrong
though why I chose nursing
as a burgeoning career 
art school might have been kinder
I was young, not even 18
when I left home to get away
you know the story
rushed out of the door without looking back
as though escaping something not yet named
never mind acknowledged
a few years later
the past caught up
I called in sick that day
and instead of working
sat in the bath screaming
desperate howls into an avocado void
hope the neighbours were out
and didn't have to hear my 
lucid nightmare
it would be years before I could put into words
the whys and wherefores
a lot of stumbling
into rooms where I wasn't welcomed
never mind belonged
nervous breakdown they used to call it
I think it's just a long road
back to ourselves
in the opposite direction
from darkness to light.


Pauline Brown 2025



sharing is caring

P A BrownLeave a comment 
Be honest
do you still doubt?
You shine like a thousand moonbeams
yet won't show the world 
that you breathe rainbows
shy, they called you
that wee girl
who clung to walls
tried to ooze into cracks
wishing invisible
wondering how squeaky wheels
didn't die of shame 
amazing to think we're not all scared
tell you what...
get older, just enough
till you wake up and think 
fuck it
I'm done playing small
I might as well just be myself.


Pauline Brown 2025


shrinking violet

P A BrownLeave a comment 
All these years
your opinion soured 
smothered my truth
I learned to see through you
clouded angry and bitter 
and I let you
it felt like home to me
all these years
pulling strings remote control
bluetooth rage  
and yet you aged 
receding and wrinkled
human
I knew your pride would hate that
I saw how fragile
and somehow you shrank
became smaller 'til you disappeared
from the storyboard
just drifted off the page 
no more looming
frightened child playing houses 
tampering sockets for shits and giggles
just to feel alive
and my heart hurt 
for two people who didn't ask for all that pain.


Pauline Brown 2025


hot mess

P A BrownLeave a comment 
old memories
that make you smile ruefully
and wonder how you're in one piece 
more or less
college digs
first shared flat
stolen scrubs on the washing line 
pot of mouldy soup
in shambolic kitchen
leek and potato
no idea how to cook for one
long suffering neighbour
going demented from the racket
Kate Bush wailing on a loop
noisy sex and the odd drunken party
pranked by a special constable 
one rowdy weekend
friend of a friend
collective hearts stopped for a beat
then hilarity when the joke dawned
happy times
not that I'd want to go back
but it's fun to remember.

Pauline Brown 2025

revelry

P A BrownLeave a comment 
Remember vinyl?
political art
explicit warning
that papery inner sleeve
a quarter turn secure
needle like precision
hiss and popping silence
then delicious chocolaty boom 
none of that watered down fizz
we call technology
I had a party one night
my tiny room on the second floor 
of the nurses' home
ten of us crammed in
getting hammered on cider and cheap wine
records strewn all over 
as we capered on top 
too far gone to mind
my ruined collection 
worse than the hangover
I don't miss being nineteen
but I could have taken better care.

Pauline Brown 2025